


empty handed

by Rebldomakr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Writing practice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 15:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17511239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebldomakr/pseuds/Rebldomakr
Summary: in another world, Harry Potter is just a wizard banker





	empty handed

**Author's Note:**

> unbetaed

“That’ll be three knuts.”

Harry drops the coins onto the counter. The cashier takes them and drops them into her register, shoving the door shut just as her coworkers turns around and sets down a porcelain cup full of smoking Espresso, sitting on a saucer, which she tops with a spoonful of whip cream and a sprinkle of glittering powder.

“Your drink, sir.”

He takes his drink and walks away from the counter, hooking two fingers into the handle.

The first sip burns his tongue and all the way down to his stomach, where it nestles in around his breakfast of steak and eggs. He sets the cup back onto the plate and he sighs, tongue sticking out around it to lick off the whip cream stuck on his lips. His exhale is beige, a symptom of the delightful herb that had been sprinkled over the coffee.

Outside of the cramped café, Harry walks down a cobblestone path. His shoes clack on the ground and the wind brushes through him like a cool kiss. It’s relieving, after the long, excruciating summer.

A voice rings out. “Mr. Potter!”

His foot pauses momentarily mid-air before he lets it fall. He doesn’t move forward, though he turns himself to look back to watch a tall, thin goblin coming towards him in an odd gait.

“Mr. Potter, I need your signature for the transfer forms on Ms. Hayse’s vault.” The weird looking goblin, with its button nose and wide eyes and lanky frame, stops just barely a few feet away from Harry. His name is Patrick Hsimron and he is Harry’s assistant.

"I’m on break, Pat.” Harry says. “Can’t it wait?”

Patrick falters. “I know, sir, but, um, she really wanted the gold sent to her relatives before the end of the day and the Portkey to Hong Kong is going to leave in two hours so I need to have the forms now, so I don’t miss it…” He trails off, swallowing around his tongue as he stares down at Harry.

“My break ends in fifteen minutes.” Harry says, dry-toned. “Have it on my desk and I’ll sign it as soon as I’m back.”

“Sir, you’re always late from break.” Patrick says.

“Be patient with me Patrick.” Harry says. “Please? I need my twenty minutes.”

Patrick grumbles under his breath, but he nods. “Fine, sir.” He says. “I’ll be in your office waiting for you!”

“Don’t forge my signature again.” Harry tells him before Harry turns back away and continues his walk down the street.He just wants to enjoy his noon break before he returns to the drone work as Gringotts official.

* * *

Gringotts is not the only bank in the Wizarding World, but it’s definitely the biggest. After the Dark Lord Voldemort completed his takeover of Europe in 1986, Gringotts was made the Bank of the Empire. They handled the Dark Lord’s finances just the same as they handled the gold belonging to, say, the muggleborn cashier that works at Harry’s favorite café in London. In return for the Ministry respecting Goblin Law and giving the goblins representative seats in the courts, Gringotts agreed to employ non-goblins in their banks.

Harry Potter graduated from Hogwarts in 1998 with enough N.E.W.T. qualifications to earn a spot in the Auror Office. Instead, he took his Arithmancy O.W.L. and went on to work for Gringotts. He was promoted through the chain of vault handlers until he rested nearly at the top, at merely twenty-four. The goblins liked him and it helped them say, “See? We  _do_  let the wizards get high ranking positions!”

His current job is as Head Handler of Vaults. If the branch of the bureaucratic powers in the British Gringotts was drawn up, Harry sat on the fourth tier of about seventy-six. It’s not the top, it’s not right below the top, or even in the below of the below of the top. It’s right under that last one, which is pretty damn good for twenty-four-year-old wizard.

Harry went into Gringotts at seven in the morning on Monday to Friday. At 12:00, he left his office after five hours of signing documents and contracts to get a cup of Espresso from his favorite café. He’d drink it during a walk to a stand at the end of First Street that sold burritos the size of his forearm, which he’d eat during his walk back to Gringotts. His break was supposed to be twenty minutes, but it often stretched into a thirty to fifty minute break, depending on the day. Back in his office by 1:00 where he’d stay, signing papers and attending meetings, until it was five. Then the bank closed and Harry left for home through his personal fireplace, where he’d be greeted his owl Hedwig.

At twenty-four, Harry’s life is scheduled. It’s simple and easy to handle.

Saturdays and Sundays weren’t as scheduled as his weekdays. He got them off when he was promoted up to Head Handler, but on Mondays it meant there was just a larger than normal stack of papers to sign.

It’s Thursday when Jean Hayse wants to send two hundred and fifty galleons to her relatives in Hong Kong. This is common occurrence. She’s a high ranking official in the Ministry, an elected in the British Wizengamot, where she represents a minority population for Britain. She’s a half-Chinese half-Veela witch and, to be completely honest, she can rather frightening when she wants to be.

Harry gets back to his office at 12:59, where Patrick the half-goblin is waiting by his desk.

“Thank you, sir.” Patrick says when Harry pushes the papers towards him after he signed his name where it needed to be, just once on the last page. He’s gone before Harry can say anything more.

He sighs.

Harry pulls a red folder, on top of a three foot stack, in front of him. He flips it open and dips his quill into a bottle of ink.

He begins to read.


End file.
